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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068423">wasn't that drunk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicequeenwrites/pseuds/theicequeenwrites'>theicequeenwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning After, drunken drama ensues, more like idiots being idiots, sometimes love is you your love interest and their immense obliviousness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:20:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicequeenwrites/pseuds/theicequeenwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy is tipsy and tired and very in love with Jean Moreau; and if they keep doing this, keep dancing and laughing like it's nothing he's going to implode. Because it is not nothing, it's everything. It's everything and it's more. </p><p>Jean is angry and on edge and if Jeremy keeps smiling at him like that, things are going to go down very quickly. Because he's been in love with Jeremy Knox for years, maybe since the day they met and he can't keep pretending he isn't. </p><p>Or, Laila and Alvarez are married now, and when is a better time to admit your undying love than the morning after.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alvarez/Laila Dermott, Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wasn't that drunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>based off the song, 'wasn't that drunk' by Josh Abbott Band, which was my quarantine jam. hope y'all like this</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Small talk and old friends </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Catching up on how you've been</em>
</p><p>Jean walked into the room and immediately wanted to leave. The memories crashing over him were threatening to drown him in a wave of longing and nostalgia. The house was devoid of current Trojans but chock full of old ones, all dressed to the nines and tispy thanks to the flutes of champagne making their way through the room. This was the way the Trojans celebrated weddings, always had been, probably always would be. Jean had hated it from his first one, and wasn’t inclined to feel any different anytime soon.</p><p>Jean couldn’t be mad and Laila and Sara for being happy and in love. He had known this day was coming since the very first day he saw them interact on the court. He admired them for it, for the way they loved with no reservations, all in, everything to lose. Everyone he encountered wanted to talk, wanted to catch up and Jean was happy to oblige. These people had been his teammates for four years, and those who he hadn’t played with he had certainly played against. He hadn’t had time for catching up like this with his new life as a professional athlete and he found he missed some of the people he had spent almost every day of four years with.</p><p>He was on edge though. Jeremy would be here tonight, no doubt about it. He had been thick as thieves with Laila and Sara and he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss their wedding reception (especially since everyone had been stung they eloped). Jean missed Jeremy with a fierceness he had thought himself incapable of, too broken and heartless for. It was unfair to himself, he supposed, for imposing these limits on himself, forcing himself to push Jeremy away because of the trauma he had suffered, the broken parts of him that were still only beginning to heal.</p><p>
  <em>That smile I missed</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Damn, it's good to see you again </em>
</p><p>The thing was, Jean and Jeremy hadn’t parted on bad terms. They had barely even parted at all. Only separating to different pro teams, but they still texted, occasionally called each other and both played Court. It hurt though, the closeness that had been forged between them wasn’t there anymore. And it struck him like lightning to the heart, as soon as he spotted Jeremy chatting to an old goalie by the door.</p><p>He was smiling in that good natured way he always was, lighting up the room with the flash of his teeth and the bunch of his cheeks. Jean sucked in a deep breath and his current conversation partner gave him a concerned glance but continued to tell her story. Jean was half glad for that, what would he say if she asked? ‘Sorry I sound like a wounded animal, the love of my life is only right over there’.</p><p>But he couldn’t be mad at himself or Jeremy, this was no one's fault, no even his own. Because Jeremy was so contagiously happy and sure, that anyone with a pulse was susceptible to falling for Jeremey. Perhaps it was unfortunate because Jean was broken and bruised and all wrong for Jeremy and because their chance had long since passed.</p><p>
  <em>I bought you a drink and I asked you to dance </em>
</p><p>Jeremy was approaching this side of the room and Jean was able to neatly sidestep the next person wanting to converse with him in favor of hunting down the open bar. Jean was not planning on ending up on the bar stool next to Jeremy, but he did and he might as well take advantage of the situation.</p><p>“Hey,” he drawled, his accent flaring up as alcohol took control of his body. Lowering his inhibitions, drawing out his accent, flaring up old feelings.</p><p>“Hey yourself,” Jeremy said, ever himself. He was grinning carelessly at Jean, the lights making his tanned skin glow golden, and lord, Jean couldn’t look away. Jean waved over the bartender and ordered a whiskey on the rocks and a martini for Jeremy.</p><p>“How’s it going?”</p><p>Jeremy shrugged. “The usual. Just did a photoshoot with Adidas, I think you’ll like the results.”</p><p>Jean knew Jeremy didn’t know the way he felt but in that second it felt like Jeremy was adding insult to the injury. Pushing it in that he would look stunning in the photos and Jean could never express it because how do you tell your best friend that he looks absolutely amazing without a shirt on. “I’m sure the pictures are great,” he said instead.</p><p>And when Jeremy beamed at him Jean finished his drink in three long sips. “Care to dance?”</p><p>
  <em>After a couple more rounds, you were holding my hand </em>
</p><p>Three shots and three flutes of champagne later, Jean and Jeremy were still dancing, two of the few dozen people left. It was past midnight and the music no longer had words, just bass pumping and techno beats. Jeremy’s fingers were thoroughly entwined in Jean’s as he jumped up and down sloppily in an impaired attempt at dancing. At one point, two shots and one flute ago, they had actually been dancing but now they were just moving inches away from each other.</p><p>They had done this so many times before at those college parties that Jeremy adored but this felt different. Now, every nerve and cell, every atom, in Jean’s body was demanding more, more, more, no matter that Jean kept telling himself no. Jeremy giggled as one of the other dancers bumped into him and pushed his body flush against Jean’s.</p><p>Jeremy, being a few inches shorter that Jean, was staring straight up at Jean, wide eyes and open mouthed. Jean’s heart stammered because he simply could not at the moment, everything hitting him at a thousand miles per hour. The thing that struck out most was that Jeremy very well could stand on his own but was choosing to lean against Jean like this, and that if Jeremy did not move in seconds, Jean would not be able to stop himself from kissing him.</p><p>Jeremy didn’t move, just kept staring at Jean like he was the stars and the moon and everything bright in the world and Jean kept staring at Jeremy like he was the ocean and rain and everything soothing there was.</p><p>
  <em>Next thing you know, we're closing it down </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And we're sharing a cab back to your house </em>
</p><p>Jean doesn’t remember how exactly their lips met or how the simple kiss turned into something heated and passionate. He does remember Laila and Sara yelling at everyone to go home because the real Trojans needed to come into sleep. He remembers Jeremy leaning far enough back to say, “I live around here” and for Jean to nod, kiss him once more, and then all but drag him to the door.</p><p>Jean doesn’t exactly remember whose car they took or who drove, because they were both probably past the legal limit. But he remembers Jeremy looking at him with complete admiration, with such desire that Jean can’t believe neither one of them had caved before.</p><p>
  <em> I know we were laughing saying whatever happens </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We can blame it on the wine when the sun comes up</em>
</p><p>It’s a miracle they made it to Jeremy’s apartment as they barely kept their hands off of each other in the brief elevator ride and as they staggered through the front door. As soon as the lock was turned and the click was heard their lips were together, suit jackets were being tugged off, ties being undone. At one point Jean pulled back to just observe Jeremy, take in the swollen lips and happy eyes and messy hair. “Are you sure?” he asked, when making out turned to handjobs and then Jeremy was reaching over and pulling out a condom and lube.</p><p>“Yes. Oh god, yes,” he said, an undertone of pleading, of desperation in his voice. Jean smirked at him, pulling him into a bruising kiss.</p><p>As Jean slid into Jeremy and he whimpered praises into Jean’s ear and cried out he was vaguely aware that if there was any fall out of this tomorrow, he could blame it on being drunk but in this moment of hazy gloriousness he just wanted to appreciate every movement of Jeremy’s body against his, every kiss they shared.</p><p>
  <em>If you're thinking it's because we were drinking </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well, that don't mean that it don't mean much </em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Cause it did and it does </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The truth of it is I wasn't that drunk </em>
</p><p>Jean woke up next to Jeremy, their legs tangled together and Jeremy’s head pressed against his chest. There was a slight headache twanging in the back of Jean’s mind but he was so relaxed with Jeremy pressed against him, so glad that finally, finally something had happened that he could ignore any hangover that wanted to overcome him.</p><p>He was aware that Jeremy might freak out when he woke up, might be frantic to see Jean was still here but Jean couldn’t leave. To him this wasn’t a random one night stand, this wasn’t a stranger or a person he didn’t care about, this was his best friend. And if he was being honest, the love of his life. He couldn’t pretend any longer that he didn’t love every inch, every angle and line of Jeremy.</p><p>But he knew if Jeremy looked at him disgusted or concerned or didn’t remember, he would pretend it didn’t mean anything, pretend that the alcohol had made him crazy. No, the alcohol made him brave enough to do what he had always wanted to.</p><p>
  <em> I was tipsy when you kissed me </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But that ain't why I kissed you back</em>
</p><p>Jeremy was in love with Jean and it was a secret to nobody except Jean himself. Jeremy wasn’t ashamed and he wasn’t embarrassed. How could he be embarrassed about loving Jean? Sure, Jeremy made it a point not to feel embarrassed about anything, but he was certain no one on this Earth could be embarrassed to love someone as genuinely good as Jean. But Jean never seemed to notice and Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to introduce the wrecking ball to their friendship for no reason.</p><p>But then there was Jean next to him at the bar, asking him to dance, letting him lean against his strong chest and Jeremy was ready to break. To cry right there in their old team house at Laila and Sara’s wedding reception because he couldn’t keep lying and pretending. He wasn’t a liar, he wasn’t a pretender, he had always been unapologetically himself. And a very big part of himself was loving Jean.</p><p>As he stared at Jean's grey eyes and had his melt down he barely noticed that Jean was leaning down until their lips were touching and Jeremy’s entire body was filled with fireworks and want. And Jeremy knew that even if Jean didn’t remember this or blamed it on the alcohol, he wouldn’t. He would say, I kissed you because I wanted to (and have forever). Because he was shameless and fearless and, god, so in love.</p><p>
  <em>I'll be honest, I've wanted to do that, to do that, do that </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh so long and oh so bad</em>
</p><p>Jeremy woke up and began to panic instantly. He could feel Jean beneath him, their legs entwined from falling asleep cuddled like they had so many times before. Except Jeremy remembered the feeling of Jean inside of him, could feel their bare chests one on top of the other and he didn’t know how he could open his eyes and pretend it wasn’t excruciating to wake up next to a person who didn’t even notice how much you loved them.</p><p>Except when he opened his eyes, Jean was already staring at him with so much emotion in his eyes that a wave of feeling crashed through Jeremy. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he said before he thought about it.</p><p>Jean smiled and brushed his thumb across Jeremy’s hairline. “Nothing with you is a mistake.”</p><p>
  <em>Then last night, it happened so fast </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'd do it over, I wouldn't think twice </em>
</p><p>Jeremy was in love with Jean and waking up next to him was the last straw. “I love you. And I know I have terrible timing and I know you don’t like guys or whatever but I’m sorry and I do and oh my god you’re amazing,” he said in one breath, the words running together at the end. He felt his skin blush red and saw the amusement quirk in Jean’s eyes but he didn’t look away, didn’t cower. He just looked at Jean and waited. And thought that even if Jean rejected him and walked away forever, he would do it over and over again, would make the same choice again and again. Because to have one accidental moment together was better than a lifetime of never knowing if something could have been there, something could have happened.</p><p>“One time was all it took to fall in love, huh?” Jean quipped but Jeremy saw the acceptance in his eyes, the quiet ‘me too’ that he was bouncing back at him.</p><p>
  <em>And the truth of it is I wasn't that drunk </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, I wasn't that drunk </em>
</p><p>Jean loved Jeremy and Jeremy loved Jean. And sometimes all it takes is very expensive champagne and burning tequila for years worth of sober feelings and thoughts and turmoils to explode into a burning kiss, a fiery confession, and a forever that would never burn out.</p>
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